Well, this year it’s going to be different. This year I am a woman in love and am fully on message with the peace, love, goodwill to all men thing. Except Marcus. Who will never again be getting goodwill from me. Particularly not under a Christmas tree. So there.
I text my darling Crush to tell him I’m leaving. My eyes are heavy with tiredness and I nearly fall asleep on the Tube on the way home. When I get back, jostled and jogged by fellow commuters, I push open the door and go up the stairs to my flat. I haul myself up each one as if I’m climbing a mountain. Slipping my key into the front door lock, I still can hardly believe that Crush will be waiting here for me. We have been living together as grown-up boyfriend and girlfriend in a real, proper relationship for nine months now and it’s been more than I could ever have expected. I just wish that we had more quality time together.
There’s a wonderful smell wafting from the kitchen and soothing music floats out of the iPod. Home, sweet home. My flat is small, a bit scuffed around the edges. I like to say that I live in Camden High Street as it makes me sound a bit trendy. In reality, it’s above a slightly grungy hairdressing salon and I can only afford it because my mum owns the premises and, out of guilt, gives me a cheap deal on the rent. But it’s mine and it is a great address. I love it even more now that it’s full of Crush’s man stuff. I hang my coat next to his on the rack and put my shoes neatly alongside his too. There’s a car mag discarded on the sofa and a stack of books – mainly crime and thrillers – that he might or might not one day get round to reading. In the bathroom cabinet all my cosmetics are squashed into half the space they used to have. My underarm deodorant nestles side-by-side against Crush’s. Our toothbrushes share the same mug. I love it all. Some days I go round and touch all of his possessions, just to make sure that he really is here.
‘Perfect timing, Gorgeous,’ Crush shouts from the kitchen. ‘Supper’s just about ready.’
If I’d still been living on my own I would have had a Mars Bar for dinner. Maybe two. Or, if I was on a health kick, a Cup-a-Soup. Now there’s something wonderful bubbling on the stove cooked by my lovely partner and I suddenly feel very cared for.
I never get tired of looking at this man. He’s tall, as handsome as anyone on telly, and I always feel as if I’m punching above my weight having bagged him for myself. His hair is brown, tousled and his eyes, the colour of chocolate buttons, are permanently warm and smiling. He’s kind beyond measure and has the patience of a saint. And he’s mine. Mine.
‘I love you,’ I say as I drop my handbag and go to slip my arms round his slim waist while he stirs something in a saucepan. I lay my head on his shoulder and breathe in his scent. ‘Do I tell you enough?’
‘At least ten times a day.’
‘I should say it more. Much more.’ Then I burst into tears.
‘Whoa. Whoa. Where did that come from?’ Crush abandons our dinner and turns round to hold me in his strong arms. ‘Lucy, what’s wrong?’
‘I feel a bit tired and emotional,’ I sniff.
‘You’re working way too hard.’ He coos as he strokes my hair. ‘You’re overtired,’ he says, as if I’m five.
‘I expect so,’ I snivel. ‘Chantal brought Lana in to see us today.’
‘She brings her in pretty much every day,’ he points out.
‘This felt different.’ I gulp back some tears. ‘Because I think I might want a baby too.’
‘That’s fine. Absolutely fine.’ Crush pats my back lovingly. ‘We can work on that. In fact, we can work on it right after dinner if you like.’
I whack him. ‘Not now. One day.’ Then I blurt out, ‘I realise that we haven’t had much . . . you know . . . recently. I’ve been very busy. You’ve been busy too. But I’ll make it up to you.’
Crush frowns. ‘We need to have a talk about that.’
‘Really, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.’ When Crush and I first got together we made love all the time. Daily. More than daily. Now we’re lucky if we manage to find time to sleep together once a week and I don’t want him to get fed up and start looking elsewhere. Years of being scarred by Marcus’s roving eye and wandering hands have left me feeling very insecure. If I don’t keep Crush happy in that department then there’s always some willing cow who doesn’t believe in the sisterhood ready to step into my shoes. ‘We can do it with the pink fluffy handcuffs, the nurse’s outfit. Whatever you like.’
‘It’s not about that, you crazy fool.’ He chucks me under the chin. ‘You’re busy, Lucy. Too busy. I know that you love running Chocolate Heaven, but you can’t do it single-handedly.’
‘I can manage.’
‘Barely.’
‘I don’t want Clive and Tristan to think that I’m not coping.’
‘When they were running Chocolate Heaven, they had each other,’ Crush points out. ‘You haven’t got anyone. You’ve got to take on an extra pair of hands. Someone you can rely on. You’ve said the business is doing well. They can afford it.’
‘I know, I know.’ And I do know. I hate to admit this, but I can’t limp along by myself. I wanted to prove that I was some sort of chocolate-dealing Superwoman and I am failing. I look up at Crush’s concerned countenance. I love this man right down to my fingertips and I’m neglecting him. ‘I don’t want it to affect our relationship.’
‘Neither do I, Gorgeous. But we have to face facts, it’s not exactly helping at the moment. I’m working hard to keep my head above water at Targa too. We don’t have much quality time.’
‘I’m sorry. I’ve spent too long wishing for a relationship like this to want to mess it up.’ Though I have to admit that I’ve also spent too long wishing for a great job and I don’t want to mess that up either.
When I worked as a temporary secretary at Targa all I had to do was sit and look wistfully at my boss all day long – one Mr Aiden Holby – and eat chocolate. Not exactly taxing. Though sometimes my elbows used to hurt from all that leaning on the desk with my chin cupped in my hands. My eyes used to go dry from staring at him. And my cheeks used to ache with longing. Now he’s here, I’m in his arms, and I’m too bloody busy and knackered to enjoy it.
‘I love you,’ he says. ‘I’m never going to hurt you. I’m just concerned for you.’
‘Thank you.’ I cling to him again, grateful.
‘I think we should disentangle ourselves, Gorgeous,’ Crush suggests as he eases himself gently from my grip. ‘The carbonara is starting to burn.’
‘It smells divine. You’re wonderful.’ I am not the one who is the domestic goddess in this partnership. ‘I brought a couple of slices of the devil’s food cake home as my contribution. Thought that would cheer us up.’
‘Perfect.’ He kisses me again. ‘But I’m not sad, I’m worried about you. That’s different.’
I watch Crush dish out our dinner, doing it all with tender attention, and know that I am loved. Truly loved. How many people can say that with absolute certainty? It makes me want to cry again. I spent too long with my ex-boyfriend, Marcus, being treated like dirt to take Crush’s love for granted. I’m cherished and I must make Crush feel that he’s cherished too. Mr Aiden Holby is absolutely right. He is everything to me. And something has to change.
Chapter Five
Nadia didn’t feel that the interview had gone well. She could hear it in her own voice as she answered the questions – she sounded too needy, too desperate, too nervous. They had asked her about childcare arrangements, which she wasn’t even sure if they were legally allowed to do, and she’d answered in too much detail, anxiously, making it sound as if it would be a breeze to abandon her son all day to the tender ministrations of other people. Perhaps they could see through her bluster. She didn’t necessarily want to work, but she certainly had to. Nadia didn’t expect the phone to ring. All in all, another one that would be chalked down to experience.
‘Mummy,’ Lewis said, exasperated. ‘You’ve read the same sentence two times.’
‘Sorry, sweetheart.’ Nadia s
miled at his admonishment. She was, indeed, guilty of conducting his nightly bedtime story without concentrating on the job in hand.
‘Why are you sad?’
‘I’m not sad,’ she said. ‘I was just thinking.’
Lewis snuggled into her. ‘Think after you read. When I’m asleep.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Sensible advice, as it was the evenings that she struggled with. They seemed long, interminably so, now that Toby was gone. During the day she could keep busy. There was housework, Lewis to play with, shopping to be done and, if she was lonely, she could always count on Chocolate Heaven for some solace. When Lewis had gone to bed there was nothing much for her to do but watch television. She couldn’t go out or run the Hoover round. Sometimes, she was tempted to keep him up too late just for the company. Other times she went to bed at the same time as Lewis. Better to be asleep than to be alone. But the downside was that she was then wide awake by four in the morning. She’d used to love reading, curled up on the sofa or in bed while Toby was engrossed on the computer – the more romantic the story the better. But she couldn’t read a book now as they invariably ended happily and that was a total fairy tale. In real life, shit happened and it stayed shitty.
She was about to regroup and take up the story of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory once more, when Lewis said, ‘Is Jacob coming to our house?’
Ah, Jacob. There were evenings when she was very grateful for his company. They never did very much – perhaps watched a film together. He seemed to have a never-ending supply of DVDs at his disposal, which was useful. Plus he was easy company. Jacob was articulate and amusing. He was laid back and kind. And he was as happy to sit quietly as to chat. Being with him was infinitely better than sitting alone.
‘No,’ she told him. ‘Not tonight, sweetheart. He’s busy with work.’ Quite often Jacob’s job as an events organiser kept him occupied in the evenings.
Lewis cuddled his teddy to him and his thumb slipped into his mouth – a sure sign that, in a few more pages, he’d be fast asleep. ‘I like Jacob.’
‘Me too.’ He was a good friend and she was very fond of him. Sometimes she wondered whether there would be more between them in the future, but she’d been badly hurt by Toby and it was far too soon to even consider another relationship. She couldn’t afford – emotionally or financially – to be burned again.
‘Is he going to be my new daddy?’
She laughed. There was nothing like a question from a four-year-old to cut to the chase. ‘No, darling. Jacob is just a friend.’
He pondered on that for a moment. ‘Like Pasha is my friend?’
‘Yes. Exactly like that.’
‘Will I ever get a new daddy?’
‘I don’t know, darling.’ She stroked his dark hair. He was changing, looking more and more like Toby as he grew. His mannerisms the same as his father’s, down to a T. Sometimes it was difficult to watch. ‘Good daddies aren’t easy to find.’
‘Oh.’
‘Do you miss Daddy?’
‘Yes,’ Lewis said, giving it serious consideration. ‘But not so much now.’
She wondered if he could still picture Toby’s face, remember what he was like. When he was older would memories of his father remain? They were struggling through it together and Lewis was doing well – better, it seemed, than Nadia was. There were days when she still missed Toby so much, despite the mess he’d left her in. And there was no doubt that she was in a terrible mess. Most of it due to her husband’s addiction to online gambling.
It had been an awful time for her – for Lewis too. Even as she was grieving, it was still the betrayal that hurt the most. Toby had been gambling for years but, before his death, it had spiralled out of control and turned him into a man she didn’t know.
Perhaps foolishly, she thought that her husband had kicked his habit, but all the time he was sinking them deeper and deeper into debt. Crazily, he went to Vegas for one last make-or-break play – the act of a desperate man. When Nadia found out what he’d done, she’d spent the last of their cash on a plane ticket to follow him out there. She’d hoped that she could find him and stop him from losing all of their money, their future. In the end, she’d got there just too late and, tragically, helplessly, had to watch her husband fall from the top of the Stratosphere Tower to his death. It was heart-breaking.
There were nights when she daren’t close her eyes or risk sleep as she’d dream endlessly of his fall through the air, hear his anguished shout. It was something she would never get over.
Needless to say, he’d gambled away everything. She wondered how he’d been able to do that, not only to her, but to Lewis too. Hadn’t the thought of leaving their lovely, innocent son without a stable future made any difference to him? Clearly not. She’d forgiven Toby a lot of things over the years, but she could never forgive him that.
To make matters worse, the insurance company were still wrangling over whether it was an accident or intentional and were refusing to pay out on their life insurance policy until they’d made their decision. How long that would take, God only knew.
When the money came through, she wanted to spend it wisely as it would have to last them a long time. But she would spend some of it repairing the house – the one that they’d so nearly lost - it was certainly in need of it. The place looked shabby now and it wasn’t in a great area. Perhaps it would be a good time for her and Lewis to move away completely and make a new start somewhere else. She’d love to move out of London, even go to the seaside perhaps. The city was no place to bring up a child. But would she ever have the nerve to leave the friendship of the Chocolate Lovers’ Club behind? She relied so heavily on the girls for emotional support that it was hard to envisage. She saw or spoke to one or all of them on a daily basis. At the moment, she couldn’t manage without the help that Autumn freely gave to her. Her family had cut her off when she’d married Toby against their wishes. She thought that his death would help to reconcile them, but she’d heard nothing. They hadn’t even sent their condolences.
Then, this morning, completely out of the blue, a letter had arrived from her sister, Anita. She wanted them to meet up. Nadia had read the note, in Anita’s once-familiar, neat writing, a dozen times. She’d wanted to stay cross at her but, undeniably, there was a chink of happiness that this simple note had created that she couldn’t ignore. Anita wanted to see her again and that made Nadia so glad.
‘Mummy,’ Lewis prompted.
‘Sorry, darling.’ She pulled her attention back to her son.
‘You said that before.’ He tucked his teddy under the duvet. ‘I’m sleepy now.’
‘Can Charlie wait for tomorrow?’
Lewis nodded. So she kissed him and, reluctantly, levered herself from his bed.
‘Sleep tight, sweetheart.’
‘Night, night, Mummy.’
She turned off the bedside light and, as he settled down and his breathing deepened, tiptoed out of his room. Now she’d sit and watch television, read the letter from Anita again, fret about her interview technique and worry about how she was going to pay the bills.
Chapter Six
Chantal knew that she was spending a lot of time at Chocolate Heaven. Even more than usual. It was doing absolutely nothing to improve her waistline, but it was still preferable to being alone at home all day. Except she wasn’t. She’d never be alone again. Now, whatever she did, wherever she went, there was always her daughter to consider.
Since she’d had Lana she felt exhausted, both emotionally and physically. What she needed was an early night. One where she actually slept all the way through from dusk until dawn. No wonder sleep deprivation was used as a means of torture.
Ted had come home late from work and had given her a perfunctory kiss. Not too long ago that would have sent her into a spiral of depression. Now, if she was honest, she was just grateful that he didn’t want more from her.
‘Hey,’ her husband said. ‘How’s my best girl been today?’
‘W
onderful,’ Chantal said. ‘I took her into Chocolate Heaven. The girls love to see her. I put her down in her cot a little while ago.’ There was a snuffle from the baby monitor and they both turned to look at it, breathing again when Lana settled herself and the red lights went out.
‘I’ll pop up to see her.’
‘Don’t wake her,’ Chantal said. ‘It took me an age to get her to sleep.’
‘I’ll try not to.’
While Ted went upstairs to see his daughter, she plated up some supper for him. A slice of tomato quiche that she’d bought at the nice deli down the road and a green salad. Ted suffered from a surfeit of business lunches and liked to eat lightly in the evening, which was fine by her.
They had become closer as a couple during her pregnancy with Lana, but since the baby had been born, there was precious little time to work on their relationship. At one time, she didn’t think that their marriage would survive, but here they still were. They weren’t fighting – thank goodness, as she had no energy for that either – but they hadn’t exactly resolved their issues. They were living in the same house, sharing a bed, but they were in a celibate relationship, more like brother and sister again than husband and wife – as they had mainly been before Lana was born. The only difference was that this time she didn’t see it as a huge problem. On the contrary, she thought it was great. The very last thing on her mind was bouncing around in the bedroom. Plus there was rather more of her to bounce around than there once had been and there was no doubt that was a passion-killer for her. Heaven only knew what Ted thought. To think she’d once been viewed by the girls as man-hungry.
Now Ted had finished his supper and was in the study, catching up with some emails. At the sound of increasingly more determined whimpers from the baby monitor Chantal went upstairs to give Lana her late-night feed.